


Regrets

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-21
Updated: 2003-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the evening of the SeeD ball, Seifer and Zell find out they have more in common than they thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lacey Parker

 

 

*~ Disclaimer : Final Fantasy and it's characters and locations are all property of Squaresoft. I'm just borrowing them for my own nefarious purposes.~* 

_It should have been me._

According to Garden's overbearing rules, he probably shouldn't even have been allowed out wandering if he wasn't attending the SeeD ball. But if it was going to be his swansong, he was going to leave with a bang; Garden wasn't ever going to forget Seifer Almasy, even if it was just for striding into the ball, throwing insults, possibly some furniture, and generally making an idiot of himself and the successful cadets. 

Like that ever stopped him before. Like anything ever stopped him. 

Nothing apart from the sight of that dance. 

Of course, Squall would never have danced with him, even if he'd been a shining example of SeeD perfection. But while the brown haired man didn't dance with anybody, it was easier to cling to the illusion. 

He hadn't stayed. No-one had seen him lurk, no-one would know of the sheer resignation that damped down any reckless desire to storm in there, show the whole fricking Garden that the likes of them never kicked down the likes of him without paying for it. 

He just didn't care. He couldn't remember ever feeling that way before. There was always something burning below the surface, even if it was anger, insolence. Tonight there was nothing. 

The secret area was empty, too early in the evening for even the sickeningly sweet couples to be hanging around. Just him and the evening sky uplit by the lights of Garden. 

At least he thought it was just him. 

"...What're you doing here?" Zell balked at the door, scowling at him like he'd have preferred to see a congregation of T-rexaurs waiting out here. Scowling, for Hyne's sakes, the gesture wrinkling up the lines of the tattoo. He'd been hanging around Puberty Boy too long. 

"Just leaving." 

He didn't want a fight. First time for everything. He wanted to be left alone to lick his wounds, but it didn't seem like that was going to go his way either. He could have just gone back to his room, he supposed. Stared at the four walls and wondered why the fuck he'd managed to mess up yet again. 

Cid's lecture ran through his head again; "...impetuous...reckless...disregard for others...." Disregard. For Puberty Boy and the Chickenwuss. He should have taken a leaf from Squall's book. Whatever. 

"Thought you were supposed to be under disciplinary action?" 

"Not till tomorrow." He tried to smirk, but the gesture felt tired. Not till tomorrow...like he couldn't outrun things anymore. "So you can't rest easy just yet, Chickenwuss." 

"Tch. Like I'm afraid of you." 

He wasn't either. There was something defiant in the blue eyes that stared him down. Crybaby Zell might always be a whiny little brat, but he was a tougher one than he used to be. Or maybe he just knew he could pull rank on Seifer now. 

"Where's Hyne's gift to SeeD?" 

"Dunno. Dancing with some girl." 

He was amused that Zell didn't even have to ask "who?". His eyes narrowed at the memory though, gloved hands tightening on the rail. 

He stared at Zell, but whatever smart ass comment he was about to make died before he could give it voice, as he realised why Zell was loitering out here looking depressed instead of enjoying the party. The martial artist shadowboxed for a moment, like he was trying to pretend Seifer wasn't there, punching half-heartedly at nothing. But the look on his face was priceless. Jealous. Dejected. 

It was a stupid thing to say. Impetuous. Reckless. But he didn't care. What fucking difference did it make now anyway? He'd blown his last chance at SeeD. They'd argue that he was too old, they'd throw him out before they let him try the exam again. Zell and Squall would be happy clappy little perfect SeeDs, and with any luck they'd never see each other again. 

"The worst thing," he began idly after a moment, "is he doesn't even know what he does, does he?" 

Zell stopped, stared at him. This time he did mumble; "Who?" 

"Squall." The taller blonde rubbed thoughtfully at the scar between his brows. "He's dense as a fucking post." 

"What do you care?" The tattooed blonde muttered defensively. "Not like there's any love lost between you two." 

"Love, no. Always preferred to think of it as a healthy dose of lust, personally." 

Zell stared at him, mouth agape. Less swatting flies than trying to catch them. 

"Wouldn't think to look at him, would you?" Zell's reaction was far more entertaining than Seifer had imagined, prompting even more in the way of badly thought out remarks. He had nothing to lose. Even if Zell did go running to Garden authorities, what was he going to tell them? Anyone would take one look at their track record and put it down to stirring trouble. Especially since it cast a bad light on everyone's favourite little monosyllabic SeeD. He smirked a smile at Zell, a little of the old fire returning. 

"...I don't believe you. You're lying." 

"Suit yourself, Chicken." 

"Don't call me that!" 

"Then don't call me a liar." Something dangerous flickered across jade eyes before settling back to arrogant amusement. "Not my fault you're jealous, is it?" 

"...Jealous?!" 

"Oh please, are you trying to deny the way you looked when you said he was with `some girl`?" Seifer arched a brow. He decided not to share the knowledge of who exactly the girl was. 

That shut Zell up. Seifer smirked, pleased. 

Zell met the smirk with a glare. "I'm not jealous of you." 

"No, don't suppose you would be. After all you're little Mr. SeeD now, and I'm nothing. Does that make you feel good, Zell? Does that give you all justification for thinking I'm less than you?" 

He didn't much like the turn the conversation was taking, but if that was the path it was going to take, he'd follow it down. They could accuse him of anything they liked, but they could never claim he didn't stick by his convictions. 

"What makes you think anyone cares, Seifer?" Zell frowned at him. "You're the one giving yourself graces, tryin' to be something more than you are." 

The thought that no-one cared, that no-one noticed, made his fingers clench tighter on the rail. Of course people noticed him, how could they not? The little Chicken runt was trying to tell him all his effort and ambition amounted to what...some pathetic cry for attention? 

So what if the bullying and arrogance only upped a gear after Squall left him, that had nothing to do with a gods-damned thing. Chicken was just jealous, just thought he was something special now he was some supposed kick-ass SeeD. 

He wasn't some snivelly attention seeking fool. He was Seifer Almasy, he was the head of the Disciplinary Committee, he would have passed that damned field exam if he didn't have such a wussy, whiny team who ran and complained the moment they got caught in a little crossfire. It was a battle for Hyne's sakes. Was he the only one who'd expected it to be tougher than a little parade through the Training Center? Was he the only one brave enough to show some initiative? 

Brave...that was a laugh. Look where his damn initiative got him. 

"Yeah, Chicken? Just sounds to me like you're pissed off that I got into Leonhart's bondage pants before you did." 

"I am not!!" The blush didn't quite sit right with the indignant scowl and the vehemence of the words. Zell took up his usual stance, looking like he was about to try and pummel Seifer's brains out just for slurring the good Squall's name. 

"Heh. Really?" Seifer's tone was conversational. "So you don't want to know what he was like?" 

There was a fraction of a second's hesitation before the predictable; "No!" 

Seifer ignored him. "Don't want to know how he'd moan like a whore and beg me not to stop when I was deep inside him?" 

"Shut the fuck up!" 

"Or how tight that ass really is once you get that stick out? How tight those pouty lips were when he was down on his knees in front of me, sucking me off? Or the way he'd blush when he looked up at me..." 

The conversation was bound to backfire, he'd known that when he started. The memories of that look, those stormblue eyes gazing up at him, fleetingly rare moments of openness, of tenderness, forced him to look away. He tried to concentrate on the lights, on the stars, on anything else. Still....it had been worth the bitter sweetness just to see that look on Zell's face. 

"You're not lying, are you...?" 

He raised a brow, found reserves of a smirk. "Don't tell me you deign to believe me, Chickenwuss?" 

Zell just shrugged. "Just that there are things that make a lot more sense if I believe you." 

Seifer chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah, guess there would be. Not that any of it matters now." 

A moment of silence passed. Like he was approaching a wounded but not quite defeated rexaur, Zell inclined a little closer, testing the boundaries, taking more chances with his words, his tone. Any of those things would have earnt him an asskicking just twenty four hours earlier. 

Now...it wasn't important. Let the Chickenwuss think he was somebody if it mattered that much to him. It didn't seem worth the fight anymore. 

"Are you two still...?" 

"No." Seifer shook his head, laugh bitter and harsh. "Squally boy found better things to do with his time..." He sent Zell a sidelong assessing look. "But that wasn't you, obviously." 

Zell blushed, then frowned indignantly. "Why not me?!" 

Truthfully, that question had him stumped. Apart from the fact that hyperactivity in a sesame seed bun wasn't exactly the kind of personality he could see Squall taking to. He snorted a soft derisive laugh; like he was any kind of expert on how Squall Leonhart thought. 

But he should have seen it, really. There was a fine line between Zell's devout hero-worshipping and something deeper. 

He just shrugged in noncommittal reply. 

They were both thinking the same thing now, anyway, after watching that dance. That was why not either of them. 

The thought of having anything in common with Zell had Seifer chuckling softly to himself. Zell glared at him. The martial artist was just too damn defensive and easy to rile; surely by now he'd have realised part of the entertainment gleaned from pissing him off was the unfailing success of the attempt. 

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

"You think I couldn'ta snagged his attention if I'd tried, don'tcha? You think I'm just a wuss and that all he's interested in is the whole SeeD thing, well let me tell you that -" 

Impetuous. Reckless. Blatant disregard for...well, anything. He still thought at the time it was a damn good idea to silence that loud rambly tirade with a hard kiss. 

That shut him up too. 

He had himself braced for a punch, relieved only in afterthought that Zell wasn't wearing his gloves. Agony as opposed to excruciating, he supposed he could live with that. But blue eyes widened, stared, danced with something that on anyone with half a brain would have looked shrewd, before the martial artist hit him with something harder and more blindsiding than a punch. 

Strong arms winding around his neck, Zell leant up on tiptoe, kissed him back. If it was a bluff, it was a damn convincing one. 

Maybe Zell had partaken of too much champagne at the ball. Maybe it was just defiance, just a reaction to the jealousy and insecurity. Maybe it was the same for Seifer, but he didn't care. There wasn't just resignation thundering in his blood anymore. 

Whatever the trance Zell was in, Seifer wanted badly enough to be willing to take the risk. Wanted to forget, wanted to shake off the tension...wanted to metaphorically flip Squall off; if the indifferent brunette could move on and forget him with someone else, the so damn well could he. 

Seifer deepened the kiss, one gloved hand wrecking Zell's hair, the other curving over his ass through the tailored SeeD uniform pants, pressing him closer. The other blonde made muffled squeaked sounds against the kiss, as one particularly knowing press of Seifer's hips brought clothed arousals into contact. He might not have exactly been winning Zell's trust, but then that wasn't even the intention. Just a bit of honesty, just enough that they both knew where they stood, what they wanted. After a moment, the shorter muscular body in his arms relaxed a fraction, moved against him more demandingly. 

He'd expected those hands to be strong, fingers firm as one set clenched in the back of his coat, the other splayed against his chest. But there was a hesitation, an uncertainty. He didn't want uncertainty. What he needed right now wasn't Crybaby Zell. He wanted the determined, belligerent Zell he'd watched bringing Galbadian soldiers to their knees during the mission. Seeing Zell fight was like watching the transformation from inelegant colt to graceful thoroughbred, every move more intricate and precise than any damn dance. It was actually a pleasure to watch. As long as he kept his mouth shut, anyway. Seifer had plans on keeping that mouth occupied, if not shut. 

Leaning back against the railing, his hands on Zell's shoulders wordlessly encouraged the other man to his knees. The protest he'd anticipated never emerged, only the slow glide of those powerful hands down his chest, a tattooed cheek nuzzling against him as the martial artist knelt in front of him, began unfastening his pants, warm breath ghosting across his arousal. 

He didn't even care that as those lips wrapped around him, Zell wasn't thinking about him. That was okay; Seifer wasn't entirely focused on the tattooed blonde either. He closed his eyes, imagining a stormcloud blue gaze looking up at him, pretended the hair beneath his fingers was the colour of chocolate, the texture of satin, not golden and gel-spiked. 

Oh Hyne...he wasn't going to sneer at hotdogs ever again, not if they were even slightly responsible for that talented mouth. Hell they should make the damn things compulsory. No wonder they were always sold out... 

Biting back another breathless chuckle, he thought to himself that Squall was missing out. But the other man's ignorant loss was his gain, however temporarily. His fingers flexed in Zell's hair, cradling, angling the blonde's head a little better, fighting the urge to thrust and bury himself in that tight warmth. While Zell's supposed ability to swallow hotdogs whole was legend among cadets, he didn't particularly want to test that theory out here and now. 

Not when that mouth was doing such wondrous teasing things to him, lips forming a perfect vacuum around his arousal, tongue moving constant and knowing, tracing ridges and seeking out the most sensitive points like he'd been made to drive Seifer crazy. 

It was harder to pretend, when the touches were so different to Squall's. One of Zell's hands ran up the inside of his legs, kneading the heavy sacs through the loose black fabric of his pants, while his lips twisted back and forth in a deliciously slow stroke. He almost let go entirely, just swirling his tongue around the head before sliding back down, deeper than before. 

While he was still capable of coherent thought, it occurred to him that Zell did everything with the same aggressive determination as he fought. It was almost a shame things had worked out the way they did. It was as though he always got the message through a fraction later than everyone else. A fraction too late. 

Then there was no thinking at all, only his body's reaction to the other man's ministrations, physical and instinctive. 

For the first time in days, his mind was mercifully blank, if only for a few seconds. There was no Squall, no SeeD, no humiliating failure. Just the aftershocks of his climax shivering through his body. 

A sated smirk curved the corners of his lips as he drew the other man back to his feet, leaning down to kiss him deeply, tasting traces of himself on Zell's lips. It was only right to return the favour... 

While there was something downright sexy about the dark uniform with it's intricate gold embroidery, baggy denim shorts would probably have required less fumbling. Then again, denim shorts made the other blonde look like some immature skater-brat. The uniform made him seem older, more sophisticated. 

Zell made another surprised whimpery sound as the gloved hand slid beneath the half undone waist of his pants, sought, found, stroked slowly. Seifer figured that when the martial artist was silent apart from those breathy little noises, he wasn't half as irritating. He raised his head, heavy lidded jade eyes watching Zell, scrutinising. Zell wasn't watching back; wide blue eyes had fluttered closed, droopy blonde bangs almost obscuring them. He had his lower lip caught between his teeth, and a telling blush stained his cheekbones, touching the lower curves of the tattoo. Admittedly, there was a lot to be said for keeping the shorter blonde like this permanently. He made a pretty picture. 

He knew the way the texture of the leather felt as it stroked. So did Squall, but he didn't think that was information Zell needed right now. Fingers gripping tight and twisting on each downstroke, Seifer's lips brushed along the tattooed blonde's jaw, moving lower along the side of his neck as Zell's head fell back, more of those infuriatingly sexy sounds on his lips. Something faintly calculating whispering at the back of his mind, the lips at Zell's throat sucked harder. Marking. 

Not to claim, not to possess. Just on the slightest chance Squall might notice. 

Funny how it felt vaguely like betrayal to still be thinking about the brown haired man even now, even as his hand moved faster and harder along the other blonde's length, murmuring indecent endearments against the shell of Zell's ear, in between licks and nips. 

The smaller blonde's body tensed against his, muscles jerking and shuddering. There was a more intense warmth against his gloved fingers, a loud whimpered cry breathed against his ear. 

For a moment they just stayed in each other's arms, catching their breath, using the other as a makeshift crutch. It was almost sweet. Almost like it had been with Squall. Probably Zell was wishing it was Squall right now. Neither of their memories or fantasies would ever live up to their expectations, but it didn't really matter. Like the effects of a spell wearing off, gradual and disorientating, they moved away from each other, self-conscious but trying to be nonchalant. 

From peripheral vision as he tried tidying himself up, he watched Zell mutter and mumble as he tried doing the same. He smirked slightly at the thought that it was unlikely to be good Garden protocol to christen a brand new SeeD uniform in quite that way. 

After a moment, Zell gave up fussing with his hair, the spiky crest rebelling to every attempt he made to make it stand up again. His attention turned back to Seifer. Eventually, annoyed and unsettled by the stare, the taller blonde frowned, growled out; "What?" 

"Are you gonna just quit, just give up? 

The unexpectedness of the question had his staring before he could stop himself. Berating the reaction, he looked away, growled again. "What's that supposed to mean?" The frown turned into a more antagonistic glare. Daring Zell to comment. "More importantly what the fuck does it have to do with you?" 

"Nothing." Zell shook his head, a slight smile on his lips, even if the expression behind it wasn't quite amusement, wasn't quite happy. "Just that I know they say all bullies are cowards deep down, I never really believed it about you..." 

The old mantle was as familiar and comfortable as his trenchcoat, just as easy to hide behind. "Are you calling me a coward, Chicken?" 

The martial artist shrugged. "If the tacky coat fits." With another humourless smile, an expression that made Zell look older than any smart uniform could, he turned back for the door back into the Training Center. At the door, he paused, brushing back unheeding bangs again. "The Seifer I know might be a conceited dumbass, but he's not the kind to quit." 

"Yeah well...maybe you know jack shit, Chickenwuss." 

"Maybe..." Zell ineffectually batted at his hair again. "But you're right about one thing..." 

"What's that?" 

"Squall's dense as a post..." 

Seifer watched Zell leave, staring at the empty doorway for an infinity. He wasn't a coward. He wasn't an attention seeker... 

He was Seifer Almasy. He wasn't going to let the weak-minded fools at Garden forget him, ignore him, treat him like any less than he was. Not even Squall Leonhart with his icy stare that looked right through him like he was dirt. He turned back to gaze out across Garden, as the fireworks of the ball exploded overhead. 

He'd show them...he'd show them all. 

 


End file.
